


Things We Lost in Lestallum

by Brobellez



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Loves Prompto Argentum, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lestallum (Final Fantasy XV), M/M, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Poor Prompto Argentum, prompto-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brobellez/pseuds/Brobellez
Summary: “Just thinking about if we lost other things in Lestallum.”Noctis hums. “It’s a big city.”Prompto nods. “We found a lot of stuff on the benches, remember? Even in the side streets behind dumpsters, we found shit like elixirs and even a plume of Phoenix Down.”“Weird what anybody will throw away, huh?”“Yeah. Hopefully we don’t lose anything else.”“Like what?”Prompto shrugs. Stares at his phone screen. Softly, he replies: “I don’t know. I don’t really notice what I got until it’s gone, you know?”
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> been toying with this idea for a while and i ended up writing it as a way to decompress from work + project my own feelings of isolation and loneliness because of this quarantine. I'll add more tags as the story progresses because I'm still open to where my vibes could take me lol. I hope yall are doing ok!

Prompto doesn’t realize his charger is missing until they’re already pulling up into Old Lestallum and the battery icon on his phone is beeping red. He checks his pockets, rifles through the beat-up knapsack he keeps in the Armiger that has all of his personal belongings, and even asks Ignis to unlock the Regalia again so that he can check the front seat and the glove compartment. It’s not there.

“Hey, Noct? Can I borrow your charger for a bit? I think I left mine back at the Leville.”

Noct is on the bed by the corner of their room, not even bothering to get under the covers yet. They managed to afford two rooms tonight: Prompto and Noctis sharing one and Gladio and Ignis sharing the other. Ever since they started taking Vyv’s photography gigs seriously, money stopped being that big of an issue. Especially when Noctis started letting Ignis hold on to their earnings from the hunts they take on. 

Noctis pulls out his charger from the Armiger, not even looking up from his phone. “You sure it’s not just in the car?”

“Yeah, dude. Checked my bag and everything.” Prompto takes Noct’s charger, hyperaware of their fingers brushing.

Before this week, Prompto would have blushed at the contact or stuttered through his next words. He would have been unable to meet Noct’s eyes, afraid that if they looked into Prompto’s, he would just  _ know. _

But now, all Prompto does is chirp: “Thanks!” 

His heart still leaps in his chest as if trying to escape. Prompto doesn’t think it will ever stop doing that. Not when faced with these displays of Noctis’ trust. Not when faced with Gladio’s grin at the end of a morning jog and the accompanying hair-ruffling. Not when faced with Ignis’ quiet laughter whenever Prompto manages to make him laugh while cooking dinner over their camp stove.

Noctis grunts. Prompto plugs in his phone and falls back onto his own bed. Watches his screen light up once with an update from King’s Knight. Ignores it until the screen fades to black.

“You’re quiet.”

Prompto hums. “Am I?”

Noctis grunts and curses at something on his phone. He’s playing King’s Knight. Prompto feels like he should feel left out, that he should feel compelled to play the same game so that he could at least pretend that there’s something more between them. That there  _ could _ be something more between them.

_ Every moment, I’m desperate to earn my place--to prove that I’m good enough. _

Noctis’ words from the roof of the Longwythe Motel rise up from the depths of memory. 

_ Then you’re gonna have to try harder. _

Prompto rubs his chest.  _ Try harder.  _ It’s been weeks and all he’s done is  _ try. _

Tonight, he’s tired of trying.

“Something on your mind?” Prompto looks up at Noctis. He still hasn’t looked up from his phone. And maybe before, Prompto would have read so much more into seeing Noctis like this: loose and open on the bed, doing his best to reach out to Prompto despite his own shortcomings when it comes to talking about his own emotions. 

Maybe before, Prompto’s mind and heart would have been aligned in thinking:  _ He loves me so much. _

_ Try harder. _

“Just thinking about if we lost other things in Lestallum.”

Noctis hums. “It’s a big city.”

Prompto nods. “We found a lot of stuff on the benches, remember? Even in the side streets behind dumpsters, we found shit like elixirs and even a plume of Phoenix Down.”

“Weird what anybody will throw away, huh?”

Prompto chokes back a wild laugh. “Yeah. Hopefully, we don’t lose anything else.”

“Like what?”

Prompto shrugs. Stares at his phone screen. Softly, he replies: “I don’t know. I don’t really notice what I got until it’s gone, you know?”

Prompto doesn’t miss the way Noctis stiffens. And before, he would have fallen over himself to correct what he said, to soften the reality his words evoked. And Noctis would have forgiven him, maybe give him the silent treatment for the rest of the night. But by the next day, they’d fall back together: Prompto and Noctis, one always reaching for the other. Prompto used to think that the reaching was mutual. 

But ever since that night, he’s not so sure. And tonight, he’s tired of convincing himself otherwise. He’ll try harder tomorrow. 

Prompto yawns and stands up. Starts collecting his clothes from his bag. He nods to the bathroom. 

“Did you wanna go first?” 

He meets Noct’s gaze, and it takes everything within him not to flinch at the weird,  _ hurt _ look in his eyes. Noct doesn’t say anything, just looks at Prompto in that wide-eyed way… as if expecting Prompto to take back what he said because how could Prompto be so callous? So careless? 

_ Of course _ , Noctis knew what loss was. O _ f course _ , Prompto knows that  _ Noctis _ knows what that feels like

“What?” Prompto snaps. And Noctis flinches as though Prompto had fired a gun.

“You… you can go ahead.” Noctis says, his voice small. He looks away from Prompto and back to his phone. His fingers move and his eyes are trained on the screen, but even from where he’s standing, Prompto can see that Noct’s mind is elsewhere.

Prompto bites his lip. He considers what he  _ should  _ say next: an apology, an explanation, a reason. Anything to explain why he’s not falling over himself to make things  _ easy _ for Noctis.

Before he can catch them, tears have started falling down his cheeks. He blinks. More tears fall.

Without fanfare, he grabs his clothes and toiletries and locks the bathroom door behind him.

Prompto doesn’t feel sorry for what he said. It’s something he would have said even if he didn’t feel the way he did now. Maybe he’s sorry for how he said it, for not going about it in the way Noctis knows Prompto (his  _ friend _ ) would. But he isn’t sorry for anything else.

Prompto apologizes the next day because  _ of course,  _ he does.

Noctis grunts. “It’s cool. Bad day for you, huh?”

Prompto nods. “Yeah. But still: what I said wasn’t cool. Thanks for forgiving me.”

Noctis looks at him. Prompto shifts under the weight of his gaze, as if there’s something Noctis is trying to convey through his unmoving expression alone. 

“What?”

Noctis blinks. Sighs. Did Prompto disappoint him? What did Prompto do this time?

“Nothing,” Noctis says before pocketing his phone and leaving the room. He had already packed his stuff back in the Armiger. 

Prompto chances one last look in the mirror. He practices his smile.  _ Heyaz. Good morning! You bet I’m ready for more!  _ The skin on his cheeks feels stretched thin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play spot the folklore reference because i only managed to finish this chapter because i was too freakin sad to sleep ((i think this also explains why it's twice as long as the first chapter haha))

It’s been almost three weeks since they left Lestallum. Almost three weeks since that conversation about the things they lost. Prompto had already gotten a new charger from one of the many outposts they passed through in between hunts. It’s like the conversation never happened. 

Prompto thinks that it’s going to be another one of their unspoken agreements--like how Noct knows never to ask about Prompto’s wristband, or how Prompto knows never to ask about the scar on Noct’s back. Or how Noctis  _ can  _ ask about Prompto’s family. He just won’t expect a straight answer. Or how Prompto  _ can _ ask about Noct’s dad, and he just won’t expect any answer at all.

They have Vyv’s pictures now, but they passed by an imperial base on the route they took going back to Lestallum, and Noctis couldn’t resist blowing it up.

They get their pay, still dirty from the raid. And the first thing Noctis does once they have their money is to lead the way to the Leville. Prompto sees Ignis take a deep breath and it’s probably the closest thing to an eye-roll he’ll get from him.

Gladio chuckles and pats Ignis’ shoulders. His hand lingers. Prompto sees Ignis relax at the touch and tells himself he’s not jealous.

Gladio and Ignis’ world revolves around Noctis. It always has. And when Prompto swore himself into the Crownsguard, he took an oath to put Noct’s safety and his life above his own. This is still something he would do without a doubt.

But Prompto wonders sometimes how it was that they never saw the way Prompto had ended up building his whole world around all  _ three _ of them. 

Noctis is waiting in the lobby, hands in his pockets and staring at the ceiling. His shoes and pants are caked in dirt. If they’d stayed out longer, his face would have eventually gotten dirty too. 

The days are getting shorter. They would pick up hunts on the way to the photo spot, and they’d had to work double-time to make it to quarries that would only come out during the day. And Prompto shudders just  _ thinking  _ about the times they’d had to hunt daemons at night.

Ignis and Gladio stand behind Noctis. Gladio’s keeping his hands to himself now, and Ignis is wiping his glasses. Prompto… would normally be hanging over Noctis, an arm slung over his friend and chattering on about the pictures he had taken that day on the long drive back. And Noctis would hum and smile small smiles, and Prompto would think himself the luckiest man on Eos to be granted such a boon.

Prompto puts his hands in his pockets and waits.

The man behind the front desk turns around with their keycards. Prompto thinks he’s new: tall with dark hair pushed back by pins that blend in well with his hair. If he spikes it up and out, he’d look a lot more like--

“Your keys, sir.” His voice is deep and friendly. Prompto catches himself staring but it’s too late. The man catches his gaze too, and his eyes widen a bit before he… blushes?

Prompto blinks. The light may have been fading, but the flush on the man’s cheeks was as clear as day. Was he blushing… because of Prompto?

Prompto’s world narrows to the flush on the man’s pale cheeks. He bites his lip. He catches the man following the motion.

He hears Noct call out to him. A small part of him that longed for Noctis that night on the Longwythe responds. But a bigger part of him, the part still hurting and  _ tired _ of hurting, takes control. 

Feeling reckless, he walks up to the counter with a small, shy smile. “Hi, I’m Prompto.”

The man gulps. He smiles back, and Prompto desperately wants to believe that there’s a healthy dose of awe in there. 

“H-hi, Prompto.”

A beat of silence. Prompto lets his smile widen a little bit. Isn’t that how Gladio does it? Or how the dashing heroes or heroines in Gladio’s books do it? “What’s your name?”

“Anselm.”

“Are you new here, Anselm?” Prompto asks. He feels not at all there at the moment, as if this were happening to someone else. Prompto isn’t suave or cool. Prompto can’t  _ do calm, _ especially in front of such a handsome stranger. 

But here he is, striking up a conversation with a man that he’s realizing he would most definitely want to kiss. 

“Yeah!” Here, Anselm’s voice breaks. He coughs behind his hand. Prompto watches the muscles on his arms flex in his shirt. “Yeah. I started yesterday. Just wanted to make a little cash on the side and my aunt had connections with the manager of the branch here, so…  _ ta-da. _ ”

“Ta-da?” Prompto laughs. 

The man’s face  _ burns _ . “Sorry.”

Prompto shakes his head, chuckling. “No, don’t be sorry! That was cute. You’re…” and here Prompto’s voice catches. He clears his throat. “ _ You’re _ cute.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Anselm breathes. Prompto sees his Adam’s apple bob around a swallow. 

Prompto looks into his eyes, deep and dark but wide with an emotion he’s never seen directed at  _ himself _ before. He’s seen that wide-eyed gaze in the movies. He’s imagined if Noctis or Ignis or Gladio could ever look at him like that. And before, he would have held on to that hope for as long as his friends would have him by their side. 

Prompto’s knees shake, but he makes his way to the front desk as casually as anything. Anselm doesn’t move away. Prompto feels powerful. 

Up close, Anselm is as tall as Ignis. Prompto has to look up at him when he leans in.

“You know, it’s not my first time here in Lestallum.” Prompto catches Anselm’s eyes flicking up and down… to his lips? His eyes? “But the tour my friend gave showed me the city by day. And I know for a _ fact _ that a city like this comes alive at night. So…”

And here, Prompto’s eyes trace a path to Anselm’s lips before flicking back to his eyes. “Know any hotspots, Anselm?”

* * *

The moment Prompto turns his back on Anselm, he feels his heart start jackrabbiting in his chest. He tries not to run up the stairs. Tries to keep his breathing under control.

When Prompto reaches the landing, he finds all three of his friends staring at him. He can’t stifle his grin, the weird disconnect he felt in himself being replaced by a strange exhilaration. 

Breathless, he says: “I’m going dancing tonight.”

Noctis and Ignis don’t say anything. Gladio snorts. “Yeah, we figured. You were a freaking  _ couerl  _ down there, blondie.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Prompto says. And now that he starts talking, it’s like he can’t stop. “It’s like I saw him and I was like,  _ oh, he’s cute. _ But then he saw me looking and I saw him blush and I thought:  _ OH, he’s REALLY cute…  _ and then my brain cells made the connection and I realized:  _ oh shit, he blushed… while he was looking at me. _ Me! As if I was someone worth blushing over! What the shit, right?! So I--”

“You’re  _ so _ worth blushing over, dude.” Noct finally says. Prompto looks at him, but Noct has already turned around to stalk down the hall to their room. Ignis pats Prompto on the shoulder and whispers a small “Well done, Prompto” before following. 

What Prompto did downstairs felt reckless and fun and  _ exhilarating _ . But watching Noctis and Ignis walk away from him, he remembered the root of his recklessness. He deflates.

“What did I do now?” he asks Gladio, who had moved to lean against the railing to watch Prompto.

Gladio watches the other two disappear into their room. “Don’t mind them, kid.”

Prompto scrunches his nose. “Don’t call me ‘kid’. I liked it better when you called me a coeurl.”

Gladio grunts. He ruffles Prompto’s hair before making his own way down the hall. “Alright, then. Don’t mind us then,  _ blondie _ . It’s nothing to worry about.”

The part of Prompto that loved all of them first wilts at that. But another, newer part of Prompto (the newer, more reckless, more  _ tired  _ part), speaks up: “If you say so.”

Gladio hums. He opens the door for Prompto, who chirps his thanks before summoning his knapsack from the Armiger. He might not have a whole lot of date-date outfits, but mixing and matching his clothes has gotten him a long way.

And fixing his brows and putting on some eyeliner has gotten him even farther.

“Where is he taking you?” Ignis asks from the kitchenette. Prompto turns to look at him, but Ignis is busy searching through the cabinets. 

“I asked him to show me around,” Prompto says. “But he promised me  _ dancing _ and it’s been so long since I’ve been to a club. Ooooohh, if the place is cool, maybe we can all go together some time! A club hits different when you’re just with friends, right?”

Ignis hums. Noct and Gladio are quiet. Prompto looks up. There are two queen-sized beds in the room, Noct and Gladio are taking up one bed each, Noct on his phone and Gladio with a book. Noctis hasn’t said anything at all. This shouldn’t hurt Prompto’s heart… but it does.

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, Prompto calls: “Hey, Noct?”

“Yeah?” Noctis asks, not looking up from his phone. 

_ I just wanted you to know that this is me trying. _ This is what Prompto wants to say. But what comes out of his mouth is a singsong: “Are you  _ jealous _ ?”

Prompto turns his back with a laugh to pick up his things so that he won’t see Noct  _ not  _ reacting. 

“I CALL DIBS ON THE BATHROOM!” He yells, knowing that it’s totally unnecessary given that everyone hasn’t made a call to beat him to it. He locks the door behind him.

Prompto has a few hours to get ready, so he decides to shower and shave and do his makeup in the bathroom. When he comes out, dinner is ready on the tiny table and all three of them are already seated.

There’s an empty chair between Noctis and Ignis, but Prompto barely registers it as an overwhelming feeling comes over him:  _ Look at them. Look at how much they don’t need you at all. _

Prompto plasters a smile on his face. “Iggy! That smells so good!”

Ignis smiles a small smile.  _ He really is so handsome _ , Prompto thinks.

“Thank you, Prompto. You look quite fetching for your date.”

Prompto looks at his outfit: dark jeans paired with a maroon tank top, his black bandana tied around his arm. He didn’t wing his eyeliner out tonight. He just wanted to make his eyes look a bit bigger. 

“Ignis, you flatterer,” Prompto mimics his accent before breaking into a grin. “But seriously, thanks. I’m really so excited about this, you guys.”

And he  _ is _ . He really  _ is _ . This feels like one of the biggest leaps he’s had to take in a long time--and strangely, one of the biggest betrayals. Prompto doesn’t want to think about why he’s even  _ feeling _ like he’s betraying anyone. None of the men he’s loved in this room have ever let him know that they love him back this way. He  _ shouldn’t  _ have to feel like he’s betraying them. 

They don’t  _ need  _ him. They never did. Prompto was stupid for even imagining otherwise. And maybe he  _ needed  _ that night on the roof. He  _ needed _ his fantasy to unravel.

He didn’t know what would have happened to him if he let his feelings grow unchecked. 

“Gladio, actually. I wanna thank you.” Prompto throws out in the oddly quiet room as he laces up his boots. 

He hears someone splutter, and Gladio’s rough voice says: “ _ What? _ ”

“Yeah!” Prompto carefully doesn’t take his eyes off his boots. “You were always going on about how I should be smoother or more suave or whatever. And I think I channeled that weird,  _ seductive _ energy that some of the guys and gals in your books have. So…”

Prompto stands up. Pockets his phone. “That couerl down there? Big part of it was you, big guy. So thanks.”

He finally gathers the courage to look at the table. None of them were eating now. Noctis is staring hard at the table. Ignis is staring at Noctis. Gladio looks constipated. 

The silence stretches.

“Something wrong?” Prompto asks. 

Only Ignis moves. He shakes his head. “Nothing to worry yourself over, love. Have fun on your date.”

_ Love _ .

Prompto’s heart speeds up, and he feels the blood rush to his face. He makes sure to turn around so that no one can see him blushing. 

“OkaythanksbyeIgnisbyeNoctbyeGladio!” He pockets a keycard and slams the door behind him. He takes a moment to lean against the door. 

He’s not guilty of anything. He’s not.

Rubbing at his chest, Prompto makes his way down.


End file.
